Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Long night?”

  I open my eyes and look up at the voice across the counter. Tabitha.

  “You have no idea.”

  She bobs her head back and forth and hands me a cup of coffee. Good ole Tabitha always knows what her customers need.

  “I have more idea than you think.”

  “What does that mean?” I wince as I burn my lip on the freshly brewed cup of joe. It doesn’t deter me from blowing on it and trying again.

  “I hear you and the roomie are becoming chummy.”

  My eyes flick up to hers. Fucking Joey. “I should have known that asshole couldn’t keep a secret.”

  Tabitha shrugs. “Give him a break. It’s the most exciting thing to happen here since the place burned down.”

  She’s not wrong. And I should be upset Joey spilled the beans when we specifically asked him not to, but truth be told, I’m actually okay with people knowing. It’s my other half that’s still having the issues. “Yeah, well, Elliott is still wrapping her brain around the age difference, so do me a favor and keep it to yourself, will you?”

  To keep herself busy, since Tabitha can’t seem to stay idle for long, she grabs a rag and begins wiping down the already clean counter. “Why? Most women would kill for a younger man. Less chance of needing a Viagra prescription.”

  I take another sip, praying the caffeine gets to my blood stream quickly. I don’t know why Elliott thinks I’m so much younger than she is. Clearly my body feels way older than my physiological age today. “You make a valid point. But I think it has less to do with age and more to do with nerves about a new relationship. Like she doesn’t want to get too relaxed too soon. It’s fine. I’m trying not to push her. She’s my friend, ya know? Whatever she needs.”

  Tabitha “awws” which makes me roll my eyes.

  “I always knew you were a sweetie, Abel. I just want to squeeze your cheeks now.” She reaches over the counter to grab my face, but I back away, scowling at her.

  “Hey.” The woman in question sidles onto the stool next to me and hands me a grocery sack.

  “Aw!” Tabitha says again and puts her hand to her heart. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she has happy tears in her eyes. “Young love is precious.”

  Elliott’s jaw drops open and she whips her head around to look at me. I hold my hands up defensively.

  “Don’t look at me.” Then, I start digging in the bag to see what’s for lunch today.

  “Freaking Joey,” Elliott grumbles in her non-cussing cussing way. “That man can’t keep a secret for anything.”

  “Why do you think I never tell him anything of importance?” I respond without much thought and pull a pre-made meal out of the bag. “What’s with the fancy food today? Did we run out of leftovers?”

  Elliott grabs the second meal and takes the two plastic forks out of Tabitha’s hand. “I didn’t have time pull any together. It was a rough morning.”

  Immediately, my interest is piqued. I have a bad feeling she’s referring to my kid. “What does that mean?”

  Elliott sighs and avoids eye contact. Tabitha, on the other hand, looks bored. “Okay kids. I’ll leave you to it. I was hoping this newfound relationship would give me hours of entertainment, but clearly you’ve jumped over the honeymoon phase and right into the boring shit.”

  I snort a laugh and lick the sauce off my thumb from the lid of the container. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Call me if a customer comes.” Tabitha disappears to the back room, no doubt to take full advantage of the lull to work on some inventory. She’s always complaining about it being hard to count jars of supplies when she has to stop and make someone food. Eventually, management will get its head out of its ass and get her some help with that. Maybe.

  Turning my attention back to my girlfriend, I bring us back to the topic at hand. “So, what happened this morning?”

  Still avoiding my gaze, Elliott plays with her food. Finally, she drops her fork and turns to face me. “Mabel went to school in her jammies.”

  I nod, having already gotten the call from the school about it. “I know.”

  “And you’re not mad?”

  “I figured there was a story behind it, and I’m bound to believe your version over Ms. Alexander’s.”

  “Ms. Alexander is convinced the girl’s duped me into thinking it’s the latest fashion trend.”

  “You’re not that gullible.”

  Elliott picks up her fork and begins playing with her food again. “You know that. I know that. Ms. Alexander doesn’t know that. I’m not sure if Mabel knows that.”

  Ah. This is about my kid. “You gonna tell me what happened or are you gonna keep pussyfooting around it.”

  She peeks up at me through her lashes and crinkles her nose. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Painfully.” I put my own fork down and swivel to face her. I only have a limited time to eat before my next client, but this is too important. “Level with me.”

  Elliott mimics my movement and turns to face me. I can already tell this is hard for her, which means it must be really bad. I can’t help but wonder, though, if our versions of “really bad” are the same. “We were almost late today. Again. I woke Mabel up three times, and she refused to get out of bed.”

  “Sounds about right. She hates mornings.”

  “As do the rest of us. But I shouldn’t have to pull her blankets all the way off the bed for her to finally get up.”

  True, except… “They stayed up really late last night, Elliott. Maybe this morning was extra hard on her.”

  “She does this almost every morning, Abel. Today was just worse than normal because of the late night. She refused to put clothes on, so I let her go to school in her jammies…”

  “Good call,” I agree.

  “Then on the way to school she demanded I buy her a donut.”

  “Wait, she didn’t get breakfast before school?”

  “No.” Elliott looks really miffed now. Which I understand, except…

  “Elliott, you can’t keep food from a kid as a punishment.”

  She reels back. “Really? That’s what you think happened? Abel, she was given multiple warnings about missing breakfast if she didn’t get up, and she refused to comply. She knew the consequences. She was testing me.”

  I don’t doubt Elliott is telling the truth. Mabel can be a little shit. She’s my kid. I know that more than anyone. But I’m having a hard time believing she really is this bad. I mean, I know the school says she has some behavior issues, but I’ve never seen it for myself, so it’s hard to gauge exactly what everyone is talking about.

  “Listen, Abel.” Elliott’s tone changes from one of anger to one of understanding. “I know she’s still grieving over May leaving. And I’m trying really hard to be sensitive to it, ya know? Not pushing her too far or crossing over some invisible parenting boundary. But I can’t allow my kid to be late to school either because yours is dead set on punishing me for something I didn’t do. That’s not fair to Ainsley.”

  I put my hand on Elliott’s shoulder and begin rubbing her neck. “I know. And you’re right. You’re in charge in the mornings as much as I’m in charge in the afternoons, and she needs to not make things hard on you.”

  Elliott smiles shyly. “I’m not even asking for her to be nice to me. I’m asking for her to respect our morning routine before school.”

  “I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh course.” I lean in closer. “And next time, tell me before it gets to this point, will you?”

  She replies just as quietly. “You’ve seen it firsthand, remember?”

  I grimace because she’s right. I have seen the disrespect and the mouthiness and haven’t pressed the issue very hard. “I’ll call her out on it more. It’s a fine line letting your kid process their own grief while still being a nice person.”

  “Necessary skill, my friend.” Elliott turns back to her food and the heaviness of the
conversation dissipates almost immediately. If this was our first conflict, it wasn’t too bad.

  I dig into my food and get ready to comment on her choice of meal when Rian comes stomping our direction.

  “Tabitha!” I yell to give her a heads up. “Customer!”

  “On my way!” she shouts back and immediately steps up to her station to make another smoothie. How did she get out here so fast? Sometimes I wonder if she’s a ninja, always knowing when someone is approaching and always knowing what they want before they even order.

  My usually-favorite client, on the other hand, is taking her sweet ass time probably because she’s wearing work clothes, which includes shoes that don’t look very comfortable. I say “usually-favorite” because I have a strange feeling she’s about to lose the coveted title if the fire in her eyes is any indication of what’s about to go down.

  “You!” Rian points a finger in my face. “You got me knocked up.”

  Except for the sounds of the blender, the room goes completely silent. Keely, who happened to be walking by, stops and backs up by two steps to see what’s going on. Even Elliott’s eyebrows rise.

  Those words coming out of any woman’s mouth sparks fear in men young and old. However, I am cool, calm, and collected. I may have been around the block a few times, but I was married when I met Rian, and she began dating Carlos not long after my divorce. She’s cute and all, and maybe in a different lifetime we’d hook up, but we’re more like brother and sister than love interests.

  Swallowing, I slowly wipe my mouth with a napkin, drawing out the moment. I feel like this is something I need to be prepared for before speaking.

  “I know we’ve never done the nasty, so I’m gonna need you to clarify.”

  Rian’s face contorts in a myriad of emotions—anger, overwhelm, fear. The one I don’t see is joy. Although if sarcasm is an indicator, she hasn’t lost that completely yet. It’s just hidden by everything else.

  “‘Clean eat,’ you said. ‘You’ll feel better,’ you said. What did you didn’t say is, ‘It’ll make you fertile, Rian.’”

  “First, I don’t sound like a cartoon character.” I dodge her punch as she half-heartedly goes for my shoulder. “I also never said not to use birth control, Rian. That’s kind of up to you.”

  “I thought this one was shooting blanks.” She gestures behind her with her thumb.

  And here comes the man at fault now. Carlos practically bounces up and the joy that’s missing on Rian’s face is all over his. “She was wrong. So wrong. I’m not shooting blanks. I’m shooting babies. My babies!”

  I shake his hand, smiling wide. I remember that feeling of pride, knowing your child was coming into the world. There’s nothing like it. “Congratulations, man. You look really excited about this.”

  “I am.” Really, there is no doubt. I’ve known Carlos for a while and he’s never smiled like this before. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen his hair look disheveled before either. He must be really focused on this baby for a hair to be out of place. “I didn’t even want kids, but suddenly the prospect of having one is overwhelming. I can’t even describe it. I can’t wait. Tabitha!” Carlos turns to our smoothie bartender who’s been standing by the blender and has missed this entire conversation.

  “What’s up, Carlos?”

  “Drinks on the house. I’m having a baby!”

  Tabitha’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. “What?!?”

  “No, no, no.” Rian wiggles her finger at him. “You aren’t actually having the baby. You’re not doing anything except ordering baby shit we can’t afford from Gucci or wherever.”

  “Our baby deserves only the best. In fact, I need to see how long the wait list is for that Italian crib maker. It’s pricey, but worth it.”

  “Oh my god. I’m having a baby,” Rian whines. “I’m having a baby, and my boyfriend has gone off his rocker already.”

  “Oh, a rocker!” Carlos exclaims, whipping his phone out, presumably to add to his list of furniture that needs to be purchased.

  “No! No rocker! Oh geez. We’re gonna have to implement Code Pink again. Only this time, I won’t be the buffer. I’ll be the one calling it. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Carlos leans over and talks to Tabitha, who is trying to hug him over the counter and only succeeding in squishing them both. Since they’re distracted, I take a moment to grab Rian by the arm and walk her away from the crowd.

  “Are you okay with this? You know you don’t have to have this baby, right?”

  Rian sighs deeply, and I swear tears are shimmering in her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to do this… it’s just really, really new. I can’t quite wrap my brain around it. I’m old, Abel.”

  “You’re in your thirties. Exaggerate much?”

  “I’m in my late thirties and my boyfriend is forty-three. We’re going to be the old parents at the school. The mom people think is the grandma.”

  I snort a laugh. “That’s not likely to happen. And if it does, make sure to tell me so I can have a good laugh.” She crosses her arms and glares at me. “But it won’t. See that woman over at the counter?” I point to Elliott, who has joined the conversation with Carlos and Tabitha. I have no doubt she’s giving her opinion on whatever baby gear Carlos is showing her on his phone. “She’s in her forties and her daughter is in my daughter’s class. No one can tell a difference in our ages.”

  “I can tell. Aren’t you like, twenty-one?” Rian sasses.

  “Har. Har. You’re funny. Seriously. Would you ask her if she was Ainsley’s grandma?”

  “I assume Ainsley is her daughter, which brings more questions to mind, but to answer your original question, no. I wouldn’t ask her.”

  “You will be her age when your kid is in school.” I rub up and down Rian’s arms, hoping to calm her fears a bit. “It’s gonna be good, Rian. We’ll keep you working out and eating right so you’re as healthy as you can be. It’s always scary, but I know you can do this. Hell, Carlos already has everything you need being delivered as we speak.”

  Rian’s turn to snort a laugh. “No doubt.” She takes a deep cleansing breath, and I know she’s trying to build up her own self-confidence. “Okay. I can do this.”

  “You can do this,” I reiterate, hoping my words sink in. Eventually. Probably three years after giving birth, but she’ll get there.

  “Thanks. We need to get back to the office. I just wanted to swing by and—”

  “Berate me?”

  Her eyebrow quirks up. “Tell you the news.”

  “Yeah, well next time you want to say the words, ‘you got me knocked up,’ maybe don’t say it as loudly in front of my boss.”

  “No guarantees.”

  As if I would expect anything less from her.

  “Oh, and hey Rian,” I call after her as she walks away, “can you write me a testimonial now? I bet I can get some good referrals off your news and how working out helps with breeding.”

  She flips me the middle finger without looking back, something she’s never done in the year or so I’ve known her. It makes me laugh.

  This is going to be a fun nine months.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ELLIOTT

  “Ainsley! Come on!” I yell up the stairs. “Your dad is here!”

  It takes all my self-control to not add on a quiet disclaimer that I don’t really care if she’s taking her time. I just don’t want to spend any more time with Derrick than necessary. Especially since he seems to have forgotten what boundaries are. He’s already made his way into the living room and is inspecting all the pictures.

  “Where’s your roommate?” The distain practically drips from his voice. Two years ago, it would have really bothered me. Now, it’s an irritation. Like when you accidentally walk through a swarm of gnats and you have to stop and get them out of your hair, and if you’re really unlucky, one of them gets squashed between your eyelids.

  Some days, I’d really like to squash Derrick. I w
ill never understand what I saw in him all those years ago. Was I drunk? Maybe that’s it. I was a regular at Happy Hour way back then. No telling what was actually in those Bloody Marys.

  “He’s not here.” I answer with a bored quality to my voice. I learned about six months into our divorce that the less emotion I show—excitement, sadness, happiness, fear—the less interest Derrick has in me. Call it narcissistic tendencies or just plain self-absorption, but monotone feelings bore him, which in turn keeps him from putting me on his radar as a person of interest in any way. I’ll take it.

  Derrick turns and subtly pouts his lips at me. “You’ll be all alone tonight. That’s so sad.” I can practically hear the victory in his voice.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I shoot back quickly. “He’ll be back with takeout later.”

  Okay, okay. Not the smartest thing to say considering my overall goal is to not have Derrick think about me ever, unless it’s “Elliott will have my balls if Ainsley gets hurt in my care.” But his morphing expression from one of mock sadness as a front for triumph into shock that I do in fact have a life beyond him, makes it worth it. This time. I’m still smart enough to know I need to tread lightly, if only for Ainsley’s sake.

  Speaking of, the little diva finally makes her appearance wearing a plastic, sparkly tiara, matching dangly earrings, and bright red lipstick.

  “What in the world are you dressed up for? And who told you to use my lipstick?” I’m really not angry. It’s actually pretty funny that she’s going to make her dad take her out like this.

  “I wanted to dress up for Daddy.” Grabbing her coat, Ainsley looks pleased with herself for putting in the extra effort for her father.

  “Well, you look lovely,” Derrick says while he helps her bundle up. Odd, but I’ve got to give it to him—he sure can play the role of her Prince Charming when he wants to.

  Ainsley has clothes and toiletries already at her dad’s house since she’s there every other weekend, so there’s no reason for her to pack, but her beloved tablet and favorite stuffed animal usually go back and forth. As we go through the normal verification process that yes, those items are in fact in her bag and there will be no hysterical moments at midnight requiring me to trek across town to appease her, they’re ready to head out for the weekend. Two days also known as my mom-cation weekend.